The Valentine Proposal by Iron Stream Media

Endorsements This sweet romance is a beau ful debut by author Beth Pugh. Filled with hear elt moments, an unexpected proposal, and lots of love, this story reminds us that some mes what we want isn’t nearly as important as what we need. Pugh has woven a unique and memorable happily-ever-after that is sure to have romance readers adding her to their bookshelves permanently. ~Susan L. Tu le Author of the Along Came Love series With twists, turns, and surprises all along the way, The Valen ne Proposal is wholesome, upli ing, and completely deligh ul. Beth Pugh has wri en a wonderful story about acceptance, forgiveness, second chances, and love. At both mes entertaining and inspiring, this is a book about our plans and God’s plans and the way He works things out for our good. A fantas c read. You’ll actually want to hug this book when you’re done. ~Amy Willoughby-Burle Author, Teacher, Encourager of Dreams A charming, Southern-ﬂavored story about a decade-old marriage pact that turns into an engagement of convenience before ﬁnally maturing into love. Wonderful characters and vivid prose will delight readers who love inspiraonal romance! ~Meghann Whistler Author of The Billionaire’s Secret

The Valen ne Proposal

What a charming debut! This heartwarming story features an intriguing premise, a relatable heroine, and a sweet romance. I appreciated the beau fully expressed theme— that the second chance God blesses us with may not unfold the way we expect, but in a manner we need the most. The Valen ne Proposal is sure to delight ~Rachel Sco McDaniel Award-winning author of The Mobster’s Daughter

The Valentine Proposal

BETH PUGH

FICTION Birmingham, Alabama

The Valen ne Proposal Iron Stream Fic on An imprint of Iron Stream Media 100 Missionary Ridge Birmingham, AL 35242 IronStreamMedia.com Copyright © 2022 by Bertha Pugh No part of this publica on may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmi ed in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior wri en permission of the publisher. Iron Stream Media serves its authors as they express their views, which may not express the views of the publisher. Library of Congress Control Number: 2021949928 Scripture quota ons from The Authorized (King James) Version. Public domain. ISBN: 978-1-64526-346-3 (paperback) ISBN: 978-1-64526-347-0 (ebook)

1 2 3 4 5—25 24 23 22 MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

DEDICATION To God the Father: the giver of joy, comfort in sorrow, and peace among the chaos.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ri ng takes a village and, for me, that village is led by God the Father. During a me when darkness surrounded me, God lit the path with stories He placed in my heart. His eternal hope spoke to me through the words He gave and I cannot thank Him enough for turning my mourning into dancing. I give Him all praise and glory for wherever this story ends up and whoever is touched along the way. Special thanks to my amazing agent, Julie Gwinn, for believing in a newbie writer like myself. I will be eternally grateful for all you do. Your dedica on to this story made my dream a reality. From the bo om of my heart, thank you. To my cri que partner, Meghann Whistler, I am so glad and beyond grateful God put us on this wri ng journey together. Your insight is invaluable, my friend. Danielle Grandine , thank you for reading this book in its infancy and helping smooth the roughness away. I loved walking through our debuts together. To Susan Tu le, you didn’t have to answer my out-of-the-blue message, but I am grateful you did. Thank you for befriending a stranger. You, too, Stephanie Jaye Taylor. Your sweet texts and happy mail never fail to upli and inspire. Ladies, I so appreciate your friendship and encouragement. Huge thanks to my editors, Jessica Nelson and Nancy J. Farrier. Jessica, you pushed me to be the best writer I could be from day one. This book would not be what it is without your knowledge and wisdom. To that end, I wouldn’t be the writer I am without you. Thank you for all you have taught me. Nancy, you are a blessing to your writers. I appreciate your pa ence, kindness, and guidance through this process. vii

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The tender care you put into this story made it more than I ever thought it could be. Thank you so much. To my friends, coworkers and family that encouraged me, thank you. I love you and appreciate you pu ng up with my ramblings. Bobbi Anne, Erica, Breanna, Jill, and Bea: Thank you all for taking the me to read (and reread) this story, the prayers, the feedback, and everything in between. I cannot tell you how much your support means to me. To my adopted sisters, Nicole and Kat, you girls cheer loudly and love louder. I am blessed to have you in my life. Travis, you are the revision master. Thank you for being my sounding board. Love each one of you so big! Lastly, to my boys—my husband and son—I will forever thank God for both of you. Izaiah, you are my reason to chase dreams. God made you to do hard things and I don’t want you to ever forget that. Or that I love you bunches, because I do, from now un l the end of me. Ryan, you are my real-life happily ever a er, complete with starry nights and Sunday morning co ee. Thank you for your unending support and belief in my dreams. I will always love you like children love pennies.

viii

Chapter One

ason Montgomery sat at a back-row table and nursed his diet soda, because he was a responsible adult. A tax-paying, churchgoing, calorie-coun ng grown-up who knew what he wanted and how to get it. That was the man he’d become between the last me he’d le the high-school gymnasium and this reunion, the first he’d a ended, celebra ng ten years since gradua on. He was a man who’d learned to work smarter, not harder, understanding me was of the essence—flee ng and in demand. It was why he’d scheduled a mee ng with Ol’ Man Rowe a few hours before the reunion, killing two birds with one stone. A er the appointment, Mason wished he’d opted to wait. The first bird flew the coop with Mr. Rowe’s swi rejec on. The second le li le hope for a happier ending while Mason wallowed in misfortune. “Mase, is that you, man?” Mason stood from the table and shook hands with the approaching figure, seeing past the suit-wearing professional to the guy he was blessed to call a buddy. Shoving aside his pity party, Mason worked on turning his frown upside down. He owed his friend that much. “Sure is. How have you been, Clay?” “Decent.” Clay Hart blew out a breath as he released Mason’s hand. The slightest shadow slid down his face, but a smile replaced it so fast, Mason second-guessed seeing it. “Good to see the Windy City hasn’t blown you away yet.” Mason chuckled and returned to his seat, gesturing for Clay to join him.

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“It came close, for sure.” Clay sat, propping his ankle on his knee and res ng his hand just above his loafer. “This internship is tough, but in the best possible way.” “I’ll bet,” said Mason. “Is Sammie Rae in town, too? She’s living in Chicago with you, right?” “Yeah, Sis is sharing my apartment. She’s already back there. Caught a nonstop flight from Lexington a few days ago. Mom couldn’t convince her to stay another day in Kentucky. The city suits her. Me, not so much. I’m glad the reunion gave me an extended holiday in the mountains. It was a stroke of genius to schedule it for the Friday a er Christmas. Most everyone I know s ll comes home for the holidays. Mom would kill me if I didn’t.” Clay released his leg and scooted his chair a li le closer to the table. “Same for me, man.” An image of his mother fli ered through Mason’s mind, her smile brighter than the tree itself when he’d told her he was staying in Pine Valley indefinitely. For Mason, the Kentucky roads didn’t just take him home. They were home. “What about you?” Clay reached for his pop bo le. “How are things going, Mr. Big Shot Photographer?” “To be honest, not so great. Did you know Ol’ Man Rowe is looking to sell Forget Me Not Photography?” “Nah, Mase, I didn’t. You thinking about buying it?” “More than thinking about it.” Mason examined his hands, paying close a en on to his le ring finger. “I made an o er today, but Mr. Rowe turned me down. Said he wanted a local family man to turn the business over to. I am neither. Apparently, I’ve been gone too long to be considered a Pine Valley na ve, and my bachelor status doesn’t fit the bill. I don’t get it, man.” Clay, his brow furrowed, drummed a beat on the table. “I mean, the studio’s been going for thirty years so I can understand wan ng to leave it in reliable hands, but does it

Beth Pugh

really ma er if those hands are a ached to a married man or not?” “You wouldn’t think so, but it is what it is.” Mason blew out a deep sigh. “I’ll figure something out.” A er another long exhale, Mason remembered his manners. “Tell me what’s new with you.” Clay wasted no me diving into the details of the new law firm he’d signed with. The legal mumbo-jumbo dazed Mason like his former teachers’ lesson plans but he nodded along as he drank his soda and watched the back door for his classmates. Mid-sip, a familiar face stepped into his line of sight, making him swallow hard to keep from spewing pop everywhere. Lily Anne Dawson. Chief. Editor-in-chief, to be exact, leader of the Pine Valley Gaze e, the school paper that had pushed the two of them together all four years of high school. Chief for short, and for the frenzy the name worked Lily Anne into. There was no pre er sight than a wide-eyed, red-cheeked Lily Anne. Watching her, Clay’s voice faded away, replaced by a rushing of blood between Mason’s ears. She was exactly as he remembered her: slightly crooked nose and knock-yoursocks-o smile. Poised, graceful, and elegant in a li le black dress beneath a fi ed fire-engine-red blazer. A few stray curls framed her face while the rest of the unruly locks were secured by some sort of twist. Mason let his gaze linger, adding the picture to the mental album he used so much it had never collected dust. She wasn’t “the one who got away,” but the unexplored “might have been” since he’d never worked up the courage to make a move. Instead, he preferred sideline stares, watching from afar while she carried on, none the wiser. Mason straightened his chair as she floated across the shiny gym floor. Maybe tonight he’d get a fresh start. Maybe

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he’d ask her to dance. Maybe he’d work up the nerve to tell her h— “What do you think?” Mason blurted the singular thought he was capable of forming in that moment, not even caring enough to turn back to the table. “She’s beau ful.” “Huh? Who? Ohhhh, gotcha.” Clay had crossed his arms over his chest, a smug grin firmly in place when Mason turned back to face him. “Guess some things never change.” “Shut it and tell me what you were asking before this drink finds its way over your head.” Even though the threat was hollow, Mason narrowed his eyes at Clay from across the table. The last thing he needed was commentary on his high-school crush that refused to die. Try as he might to keep his feelings for Lily Anne under wraps, Mason’s a racon to the blonde beauty was no secret to the man seated across from him. When Lily Anne received an anonymous rose with a knock-knock joke for a message sophomore year, Clay had put two and two together and got four, recognizing the joke from a book Mason had toted around. “Well, now that I have your a en on.” Clay chuckled. “I was wondering if I need a new bio pic since I took on the internship.” “It’s your preference but an update is never a bad idea. I’ll knock it out for you before you head back. I’m in town indefinitely.” “Interes ng. Lily Anne is home again, too, and single.” Clay leaned across the table and waggled his brows. Mason gave him the evil eye before scanning Lily Anne’s hands. Being only two tables away, he spo ed the glint of a stainless-steel band on her fourth finger. He felt the air rush out of him un l he realized it was on her right hand and looked iden cal to the purity ring a ached to his key fob. There’d been chance a er chance to renege on his vow of celibacy. All those women abroad—gorgeous, mouthwa-

Beth Pugh

tering women eager for his a en on and apprecia ve of his looks—had been temp ng. But he’d never crossed that line, regardless of what might have been said, or printed, that stated otherwise. He’d reserved true in macy for marriage, and a er seeing evidence that Lily Anne had done the same, he’d never been happier with his choice. Tonight might be his second chance. Before he talked himself out of his seat and into Lily Anne’s space, the DJ interrupted. “Y’all are not going to believe what I found. It’s the most redneck me capsule I’ve ever seen. Anyone remember what’s in here?” The DJ stood from behind the turntable and looked around the gym. The graduates of Pine Valley High did not disappoint as shouts flew from across the room. Prom Queen’s garter. Band conductor’s wand. Senior Edi on of the Gaze e. The last guess glued Mason’s feet to the floor as the guy behind the turntable started holding up each item. When a copy of the aforemen oned gaze e waved in the air, the room got hot. Too hot for comfort. Mason shi ed under the heat wave, begging to find a nonexistent breeze in a room without windows. He clutched the front of his shirt and fanned himself, but it did li le to cool his rising temperature. He knew what was in that periodical. A promise he’d made to Lily Anne, as well as to himself, a decade ago. It didn’t ma er, though. Did it? Surely not. Except, Mason knew be er. Their agreement ma ered more now than ever. With trembling hands, Mason drained his drink. Fizz from the carbona on ckled his nose as he gulped, welcoming the frosty soda. The relief ended much too quickly, for as soon as the cool liquid slid down his throat, his mouth was dry again. Desperate, he pped the mel ng ice into his mouth while his mind raced with possibili es. Maybe this really is my second chance.

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This was the kind of killing-two-birds-with-one-stone Mason was down for. If Mason made good on their agreement, he’d be the protégé Ol’ Man Rowe wanted: a married man living in Pine Valley. Ludicrous? Maybe, but Mason needed that studio to move his career back home. If fulfilling a ten-year-old promise gave him the business of his dreams and a chance with the girl worth wai ng a decade for, even be er. “This segment seems interes ng. I think it deserves a read.” The DJ cleared his throat and started reading. When the tle echoed above the crowd, Mason recognized it as the excerpt he’d been hoping for. He mouthed the words he knew by heart in me with the DJ, his knee bouncing a frenzied rhythm to the familiar line. “If in ten years we are both una ached we will get hitched on Valen ne’s Day. Signed, Lily Anne & Mason. Awww, how sweet. Mason, you here?” Mason didn’t answer but sat slack-jawed, trying to process. How many mes had he recited those exact words? The uno cial valen ne proposal had become a chant to push him through the lonely hotel nights or the unbearable frame-by-frame early-morning edits. It was the mantra he recited when home seemed but a memory instead of a dot on the map wai ng for him. The promise was more than a spur-of-the-moment quip. To him, it always had been. What was it to Lily Anne? Only one way to find out. “Mason?” The DJ repeated his name, but Mason stayed s ll. Not for fear of embarrassment or indecision, but because he needed to find a ring. With a deep breath in and out through his nose, Mason willed the trembling in his hands to stop as he scanned the room. In seconds, his gaze landed on Clay’s empty pop bo le. “You done with that?” asked Mason. “Yeah, why?”

Beth Pugh

Mason didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed the bo le, unscrewed the lid, and pulled the plas c ring o as fast as he could. Clay took hold of the bo le with the cau on of a snake handler and sat it down easy. “Mase, I know that look and nothing good ever comes from it. Whatever’s rolling around in that thick brain of yours, don’t do it.” “Come on, Clay. You’re heard the DJ. I’ve got a proposal to get to.” Mason stood up as eyes from all across the gym centered on him. The back of his shirt pulled taut as more sweat beaded beneath the material. With each step toward Lily Anne’s table, the room quieted un l Mason’s own breath was all that broke the silence in his ears. He inhaled deeply and prayed for a miracle, saying “amen” just as Lily Anne jumped from her chair. As if on cue, Clay pointed at the two of them and clapped. When Lily Anne’s eyes met his, Mason knew he was a goner. Too late to turn back now. It’s show me! “Hey, Chief.” Mason dropped to one knee.